


like water against stone

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Catholic School, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Teacher Castiel, Underage Sex, Virgin Meg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 04:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7084834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time that she’d approached him after class, forever ago it seemed now, Castiel had merely thought she were attempting to rebel with the top few buttons of her uniform blouse undone. It hadn’t even crossed his mind as she leaned over the desk that she had done it just for him. For his attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like water against stone

The sharp floral smell of her perfume was familiar by now, stinging his nose just a little as she crowded him back against the blackboard. Too comfortable being overly familiar - daring - with him, but he had failed to discourage her, and he had never reported it as she grew bolder through the year.

“So what do you think, might actually make a ‘B’ this year, huh?”

Placing a hand on her shoulder and firmly pushing her back, Castiel did his best to scowl. “If you put effort into your essay and study for the final test, I am sure you will have no problem earning that ‘B’, Meg.”

She still stood toe to toe with him, one hand reaching up to flip his tie that had gotten twisted around backwards again. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Professor.”

Castiel nudged her shoulder more insistently, and slipped from between the blackboard and her. “I am here to help.”

Striding back to his desk, he straightened the papers he’d been grading during the after-school tutoring session. There were other students that attended, not only those doing poorly but those in the mediocre range striving to improve. He was happy to stay late to help. But as usual, Meg had lingered as everyone else eagerly left.

Sliding folders into his bag, Castiel felt a small hand settle on his shoulder. He shrugged her off. “But it’s been your hard work that’s made your improvement possible.” Turning towards her, now boxed in against his desk, Castiel sighed. “Meg, I am glad you’ve put effort in.”

It wasn’t unusual for a student to develop a crush on him, it happened most years, working in the all-girl Catholic school, St. Sebastian’s. A firm warning, a stern reprimand, always turned them away. Meg, apparently had taken it as a challenge. Castiel was loathe to report the ill behavior if he could handle it swiftly with a warning. Meg had breezed right past all his admonishments. She may have truly thought she could flirt her way to a better grade at the start of the year, but when she figured out that it wouldn’t work she had surprised him by actually applying herself, steadily raising her grade herself, completing bonus assignments and attending tutoring sessions.

Even if the after school tutoring were simply a ruse to dawdle afterward and try to get him alone.

“Well gosh, don’t you know how to make a girl blush, saying nice things like that.”

Reaching for the last folder of messy student papers, Meg snatched it before he could, twirling and hopping to sit perched on the corner of the desk. Holding it in her lap. Castiel narrowed his eyes at her and held his hand out. Waited. Meg’s default expression, it seemed, was a sly grin designed to irritate him. She held the file close to her chest.

The first time that she’d approached him after class, forever ago it seemed now, Castiel had merely thought she were attempting to rebel with the top few buttons of her uniform blouse undone. It hadn’t even crossed his mind as she leaned over the desk that she had done it just for him. For his attention.

There was no mistaking her intention anymore. Legs spread and her pleated skirt riding up, heels of her flat Mary-Jane shoes tapping the desk, Meg bit her lip and watched him. Castiel took the folder from her at arms length, stuffed it into his bag with the rest, and zipped it.

“Aren’t you going to do something nice for me, for being so good?”

Meg pouted at him, head tipped back, long wavy hair draped over her shoulders and the top few buttons of her shirt undone again.

Castiel straightened and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. “The satisfaction of a good grade should be reward enough, and I’m sure your parents will be very proud.”

The arrogant mask of a young girl trying to hard to be something she doesn’t understand slipped briefly, Meg’s expression darkening when she told him, “They don’t really care,” but then she was in his space again and as Castiel backed up until his knees hit the edge of his chair. He stumbled.

Accustomed to her brazen flirtation, Meg had held her advances steady and perhaps it was his fault for assuming her to only be interested in toying with him anymore, but Castiel didn’t expect for her to lift a knee to the arm of the simple wooden chair. Looking to the side sharply, he squinted at the math equations on the chalkboard.

The second advance that Meg had made on him had been a pair of - used, he knew, he had kept them because he didn’t know what else to do with them - white cotton panties she’d stuffed in his bag while he was distracted. He should have reported her behavior then, should have realized he was not in control of the situation, but there were so many doubts pressing upon him. What light he might be viewed in, Headmistress Naomi bore him no good will, what light Meg might be viewed in, she was just a child and he was so afraid to hurt her. It was reckless to think that by denying her attention she’d simply lose interest. If anything it only seemed to spur her further.

Lithe fingers stroked along the edge of his jaw, and in turning from it, Castiel turned his gaze back towards her. The smooth creamy skin of her thigh at eye level, skirt rucked up, white panties. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath.

“Meg, I know that you understand this is completely inappropriate behavior.”

Her hand slid around to the back of his neck as she leaned in closer, smug smile stretching her lips, “So why haven’t you told anyone?”

She knew damn well why. The third advance that she had made had been amateur photographs printed out on computer paper taken under her desk, legs spread, panties pulled to the side. She’d tucked these papers into his bag. Like the panties had been. He had been enraged, ready to storm to Naomi and put an end to it. Meg had smiled at him after school, when he’d found them, shrugged and asked him who people would think had taken those pictures.

Castiel should have burned them.

He can still remember the intensity of his orgasm, at home, the photographs wrinkled from throwing the papers away, taken out and smoothed on his coffee table, just black and white but oh how vividly could he see in his mind’s eye what she offered so unashamedly to him.

“Meg. Go home.”

It came out a lot weaker than he meant. Did it sound as pleading to her as it did to him?

Her knee slipped from the arm-rest, the other folding up, straddling his thighs and she was barely a weight in his lap. Warm. Sting of her perfume in his nose. Fingernails scratching light through his hair.

“Why would I do that?”

Sophomore class. She must be seventeen. No, maybe sixteen. Probably seventeen. Castiel was pushing close to forty. She could be his daughter. If he had ever had a wife, ever had a woman who came remotely close. He could count on one hand, how many times he’d failed.

“Please just go.”

His eyes were still squeezed shut to the sight of her leaning in, lips ghosting over his cheek. He tried to think how he had gotten here. There were steps, moments of indecision he should have come down harder on. He had never though his will would waver though, however he handled the matter. He never thought he could be tempted like this.

She’d worn away at him, like water against stone.

He didn’t think Meg had the patience in her. Slow, insidious. Could he count the steps of every layer worn away. There were less than he thought. It was almost terrifying.

When she rolled her hips gently, Castiel felt shame burn through him as his cock swelled. A shiver tripped down his spine and her fingers were cradling his head so sweetly as she brushed soft lips against him. Castiel gasped and clenched his jaw.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

That was wrong. In a month she’d be out of his class and Castiel could wash his hands of this. He should push her away and leave her behind. Go home to his quiet studio apartment. Water the plants. Grade papers.

Pray.

When Meg’s hands pulled back, Castiel drew in a shuddering breath and opened his eyes. Still perched in his lap, she watched him as she unbuttoned her shirt. He couldn’t seem to control his eyes as they flicked down, tracked the movement of slender hands, white starched shirt parting, the swell of her chest modest and alluring. When he looked back up again, pretty brown eyes gleamed and Meg licked her lips in obvious invitation.

Flushed with heat and drowning in shame, Castiel clutched the arms of the chair. He could find no inner wells of strength, no decency. How could he even call himself a man, if he were so weak.

Curling an arm around her waist, Castiel held her. Meg softly sighed, but as soon as he lifted her up and stood she squeaked indignantly.

“Hey!”

But he was across the room to the door.

“You can’t just-“

Slamming it shut. Locking it. Ripping a poster from the wall, he pressed the used tape to the door, laying it over the small window. Blocking it out.

Castiel could feel himself shake with nerves, and when he turned back around, Meg looked almost as shocked as he did. It barely took her a second before she’d adopted her usual relaxed posture of self-assuredness, shrugging out of her shirt and hopping back up to sit on the desk with her legs spread.

Castiel was in front of her without registering that he had moved. Once he stood between her knees though, he went still again. Frozen. Watching like this wasn’t his life. Couldn’t possibly be. Passiveness in these matters was as much an action as reaching for her. He was wrong, he was wrong he was wrong -

Forgive her Father.

There was a crucifix on the wall beside the door, next to the clock. The second hand ticked loudly in the empty classroom. Almost seven p.m.

Startled abruptly out of his haze, Castiel jerked when Meg reached for his belt. Opened his pants. Palmed at his erection through his boxers. Pushed those down as well. Skin to skin, so warm. Placing his hands on her shoulders, Castiel leaned in. Meg stroked his cock and hummed against his neck where she kissed him.

Six years. It had been six years since Castiel had been with another woman. He figured that abstinence suited him more after April. Apparently, his cock would beg to differ. He knew better than this. All the responsibility of this situation - spiraled so out of control he couldn’t even see what depths they were headed for - it lay upon his shoulders. Castiel still rocked into her hand, turned his face to catch her lips, kiss her. Meg whimpered at the touch, the first reciprocation in the long, patient game she played. Castiel circled his arms around her shoulders, this young girl’s shoulders, and he kissed her.

Tentative at first, and he never would have figured her for shy, he licked past her lips and slid his palms down the curve of her back. Skin warm to touch, with a flick her bra was undone, fingers dragging down the furrow of her spine. Meg squeezed her hand around his cock, bit at his lip. There was heat in his veins and a narrow, insistent pressure in his mind. He couldn’t focus. It was all a wash of prickling sensation scraping him raw. Think. Just.

Pulling back, Castiel grasped her narrow waist and jerked Meg off the desk, flipped her around and pressed her down again. He was so accustomed to her always having a retort, something smartass to say to him, something to goad him, that this wordlessness confused him. Castiel did not feel a part of his own body though. There was a detachment. A resignation.

Flipping her skirt up, Castiel slid his erection between the apex of her thighs, wet and heated, slid between the folds of her labia.

Wavy brown hair tossed to the side Meg glanced over her shoulder at him. Castiel hefted her hips up, tip toes. How long had she been begging for this, how long had she teased and toyed and he was a weak, sick man.

“It won’t…” Meg whimpered and braced against the desk, “It won’t hurt, will it?”

His breath seized in his chest and there was a moment of lapse. “Meg, you aren’t, are you…”

“I’ve never…”

She lifted a knee to the desk, widened her stance, pushed back. But here eyes were huge and wet, watching, and was that worry there. Castiel splayed a hand against her backside, soothed down her thigh.

“Never?”

“No.”

There were so many things he could do to make this better. Not right. Never, really. But better, for her, young and tender and what was he even doing. Instead, Castiel sank to his knees.

Weak.

Buried his face between her thighs.

She tasted of forbidden fruit, honey sweet sin, dripping wet and the soft pink of her against his tongue had his eyes rolling back. Shivering and gasping, Meg pushed her hips back against him as she spread her legs wider. He was a man possessed. Parched ascetic of the dessert denied so long and so confident in his conviction. How easily it was scattered like sand once he broke.

Spreading his hands across the backs of her thighs, Castiel stroked smooth skin and licked up the slit, tongue deeper and circled around the delicate bundle like a flower bud blossoming.

His cock bounced up against his stomach, hard and aching. He’d never hated the thing more. She didn’t deserve this. What did she deserve. To lose her virginity on her wedding night to a marriage either of youthful naivety that knew no better or convenience arranged by parents who thought they knew better. What did she deserve. To preserve herself in the eyes of the Lord. To maintain her purity and innocence. Was it not his responsibility; to protect her.

Lapping at the tender skin that parted by his tongue, Castiel groaned and resigned himself.

“I won’t hurt you.”

It was a lie.

Nothing good could come of this, and though he might give her what she thought she wanted bodily, this wasn’t what she needed. She didn’t have the experience and the temperance of age to judge her own actions. He should. He did. They were all scattered.

Stroking a hand down her thigh, knee-high white sock soft to the touch, along the curve of her calf and up again, backs of his knuckles brushing smooth skin, Castiel pressed his fingers to her sex. Curled hair framing pink, unfolding to him, dripping wet of his saliva. Thin spun sugar, she melted under his tongue. A single digit sunk in so easily, his tongue lapping around the stretch of her body, gentle, insistent. Meg shuddered and shifted her weight.

Castiel pressed his forehead to the crease of her buttock, soothed his lips over her skin. Her body clutched hot and tight around his fingers. His cock twitched.

“Please.”

Castiel rocked back on his heels.

“Please, Professor Novak, please…”

Rising on the balls of his feet, Castiel soothed a hand along the stretch of her back. Wavy dark hair fanned to one side, Meg watching over her shoulder. Bra straps fallen over her shoulders. Skirt bunched around her waist. His student. Spread across his desk.

Would it be any less a sin to stop now.

Framing slender waist with his hands, Castiel pulled her up. Spun her around. Meg lay back on the desk, hands holding her skirt up, bright eyes tracking his every movement. Castiel’s tie was still fixed, every button of his shirt done, red head of his cock jutting out obscenely.

The loud tick of the second hand on the clock subsumed her heavy breathing. The squeak of skin on wood as she pushed herself up on his desk. White panties pulled to the side, one sock fallen down around an ankle.

He was ready to bolt when she pulled her undone bra off, pulled a foil condom wrapper that had stuck to the skin of her breast with sweat and offered it to him.

“I’m not stupid, you know.”

Defiant. Challenging. He was supposed to know better. This wasn’t a game. A cry for attention. Maybe. A disturbed young girl. He should tell the counselor.

Meg gripped his arm, nails digging in sharp, pressed the stiff foil to his palm.

Castiel found it hard to breathe. Rolling the condom on, he watched as she reclined on the desk, cupped a breast and squeezed, slid her own fingers down along the slit of her pussy. Imitation. Play pretend. She couldn’t know. He was ill. Corrupt.

Curling over her, Castiel pressed the head of his cock to her and kissed her lips. Like anything about this was the intimacy a couple should share. “Wrap your legs around me.”

She obeyed.

Ankles clasped in the small of his back, firm muscle, sculpted youth yet to wilt, Meg encircled him with her legs and her arms, pulled him closer to her warmth, pulled him in. With a firm steady insistence - the sort he should of discouraged her with - Castiel sunk into the clutch of her body. Meg whimpered beneath him. Chest heaving. Dropping his head to kiss her brow, her cheek, her lips, Castiel trailed a meandering path of delicate kisses down the curve of her chest, closed his mouth over the peak of a stiff nipple.

Arching up and crying in a stuttered whine, Meg curled her hands in his shirt and jerked in his hold. Muttered a litany of obscenities, blasphemies against the Lord, things absolutely vulgar to hear from a young girl and they sputtered across her lips easily. Castiel braced his hands on the desk to either side of her head, soft hair tangled under his palms, fucked into her with measured shallow thrusts, felt the pulse of her heart under his lips as he mouthed over her chest.

There was still a tight coil of shame low in his gut, burning away by the pulses of arousal lapping through him. Sliding a hand down her thigh, lifting a leg higher, Castiel pulled her to the edge of the desk and snapped his hips in deep. Sweet thing, delicate thing, she only clung to him tighter and fisted a hand in his short hair, held him to her breast, mumbled as she juddered and rolled her hips against his, filthy and wicked.

Overwhelmed, all Castiel could hope for was to end this swiftly. Would she be sated with what he gave her. Would she want more. He couldn’t face another month with her gaze, her hunger, focused on him. He had nowhere to turn.

Mapping the spread of her body with broad hands, Castiel dragged his fingers over her thighs, up along her quivering stomach, dipped across her hips, sunk between her legs and pressed against the apex of her vulva. He wasn’t entirely sure if he could find what he meant, all his previous lovers - if he could call them that - disdainful and distant. When Meg groaned and tightened her thighs her around him, Castiel circled his fingers around plump flesh, rubbed the pad of his thumb there as he shoved his hips in, hoped he was good enough. Meg pulled him up by the hair, rough and demanding, sucked at his mouth like she were trying to steal his breath.

Too loud, too much. Castiel clapped a hand over her mouth. One on her face, one between her legs, cock working into her. Meg cried and trembled, channel seizing around him, pulling him deeper, deeper, like he needed to be sunk any more into this mire. It was heaven. Bliss on earth. Sin designed to ensnare and he was gone.

Shaking apart and heaving as he fucked every admonishment, every reproach, every prayer into her body like it was the source of divinity he sought council with, Castiel buried his face in her neck and sobbed out his release.

Long, slender fingers ghosted gently over his shoulder, rustling across the shirt he still wore, toes still in her socks - shoes kicked off, it seemed - rubbing the backs of his calves. She hummed. Sounded completely satisfied and content. Castiel was cold.

“I knew you had it in you.”

Any hesitation she had shown was a distant memory.

“Don’t…”

Castiel wasn’t entirely clear on what he was trying to tell her not to do. The lines had been crossed, irrevocably. More than misguided flirtation and the naivety of youth. More than his idiotic desire to simply let her spill her hormones out and be done with it.

He had no authority here. Not any more.

Pulling out with a grimace, pants buckled up before even removing the condom, Castiel grabbed his coat where it had been dropped and wrapped it around himself, fumbling for his bag, for anything.

“You don’t do this much, do you?”

There was teasing in her voice.

Castiel turned a reproachful eye on her, harsher than he meant to be, “And you do?”

Meg pursed her lips at him, “No need to be mean about it. Wasn’t that fun?”

Scooting off the desk, skirt falling down, she pulled her bra back on and cast about for her shirt. There was a vulnerability in her close, tight movements, that Castiel hardly ever saw on the young girl. He had done that. Oh God what penance must he pay, he had done that.

“Meg.” His voice was cold. “Go home.”

Pouting, she fiddled with the buttons of her shirt, combed her fingers through messy hair, shifted her weight and there was still the bloom of a bright flush on her cheeks. A flower not even blossomed, oh God what had he done.

“Fine.” She turned her shoulder to him then.

He could tell her to seek counsel in the church, with her parents, anyone really but himself. It wasn’t her that needed it most though, was it.

There was only one answer Castiel could find as he slung his bag over his shoulder, pulled the poster from the window and replaced it on the wall, held the door open for Meg as she glared at him and left. Only one thing to do.

He needed to leave. He needed to be far, far away from her.


End file.
